


crossfire

by nebulousviolet



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz, H.I.V.E. Series - Mark Walden
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, shameless wish fulfilment, should make sense to fans of either series, two russian assassins walk into a bar...., yassen-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulousviolet/pseuds/nebulousviolet
Summary: “You’ve heard about SCORPIA.” It was not a question; anybody with the vaguest attachment to the criminal underworld had seen SCORPIA fold, and Raven’s ties to the underworld were not vague by any means. She frowned.“Naturally,” she said. “It is not often that the League’s greatest rival implodes before our very eyes. It is even rarer that we hear whispers of MI6 recruiting a fourteen year old boy to do their dirty work.”
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich & Natalya | Raven (H.I.V.E.)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	crossfire

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most shameless, self-indulgent thing i have ever written. somewhere, 12 year old me is screaming.  
> i had planned for a more....ambitious crossover between these two series (alex and otto parallels, anyone?) but Real Life has ensured those plans havent gotten off the ground. maybe one day! until then, take this niche-ness.  
> imo it is heavily implied that raven is on anti-psychotics (or was) in canon and that is the medication mentioned in this.  
> i dont know what the fuck a timeline is anymore but let’s just say this is set post deadlock, post scorpia rising *handwaves vaguely*

It was dim in the bar, and sparsely populated; nobody went to this corner of Munich for good drinks. This was, of course, why the man tucked away in a dark corner had chosen it - in his profession, it did not bode well to be recognised or overheard. It was a profession he shared with the woman who strode across the room to greet him, her expression carefully impassive even as she shook his hand. This was a meeting that did not need to be broadcast.

“Raven,” he acknowledged.

“Yassen,” she returned. She had grown yet more beautiful since she saw him last, her blue eyes cold and distant, her face perfectly symmetrical save for the scar that curved down one cheek, and he wondered if she was disappointed. He himself was not in what he considered to be perfect form. It was one of the many pitfalls of having to lie low. “I see that the rumours of your demise are greatly exaggerated, as per usual.”

“I could say the same for you,” Yassen said. If cats had nine lives, then Raven had ninety. It seemed she rose from the dead once a week. “I doubt anybody will believe it when the time actually comes.”

She allowed him a rare smile. “I don’t intend for that to be anytime soon,” Raven informed him. He was struck by how odd it was, both Russians, both assassins, both trading pleasantries in a language that was not their mother tongue, and considered her over his martini. Her own hands were conspicuously empty.

“You don’t drink anymore?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Not on my medication,” she informed him. She cocked her head. “You ought to do the same.”

“I don’t take anything,” he said.

“Perhaps you should,” she said. Despite her bluntness, he knew it was not an insult. Raven showed her displeasure in baser ways. “You have as much reason to need it as I do.”

“I disagree,” he said. He’d spent a sizeable sum of money on unearthing Raven’s past, and while not much shocked Yassen Gregorovich anymore, the story of how a girl on the streets of Moscow had become the deadliest female assassin known to man was not a happy one by any means. “Our situations differ where it matters.”

She leaned forward; not a physical attack, but an emotional one. He had known Raven for a long time. Save for John Rider, she was the closest thing he had for a friend. “What do you want, Yassen?” she asked. “I know you didn’t call me all the way out here to talk about our histories.”

“You’ve heard about SCORPIA.” It was not a question; anybody with the vaguest attachment to the criminal underworld had seen SCORPIA fold, and Raven’s ties to the underworld were not vague by any means. She frowned.

“Naturally,” she said. “It is not often that the League’s greatest rival implodes before our very eyes. It is even rarer that we hear whispers of MI6 recruiting a fourteen year old boy to do their dirty work.”

Of course that would be what Raven took issue with; the recruitment and subsequent manipulation of a teenager by national intelligence services struck close to home, seeing as it was rumoured her own brutal training had been sponsored by the KGB. Everything else was merely background noise - the organisation that she herself worked for was now bigger than SCORPIA had been at its peak, and he doubted that the fallout had affected her personally. But Yassen didn’t want to talk about Alex Rider, not yet. “It has left me in a precarious position,” Yassen said. “Any future contracts with ex-SCORPIA members are untenable.”

“As in, they’d be hiring a ghost,” Raven said.

“It is advantageous for me to allow them to believe in my death for another year or so,” Yassen admitted, and was treated to a blink-and-you’d-miss-it smirk in response. “You would know.”

Raven narrowed her eyes. “Only if you were plotting something more grand.” Her tone implied that this was exactly what she thought he was doing. Not that he had any intention of confirming her suspicions.

“I saved your life in Rome,” he said, designed to cut off  _ that  _ particular line of questioning; this was the problem with talking to those in his line of work. “Nero’s little power play has not gone unnoticed for those of us unaligned. Everybody knows you’re his right-hand woman. A position within the League would repay that debt.”

Already, she was shaking her head. “I don’t have as much influence as everybody seems to think I do,” she said. “I owe you a favour, yes, but do you really think the League is in a position to afford outside contractors right now? The entire ruling council is in disarray. Never mind the fact that three years ago I didn’t even have the seniority to present a case to the council without supervision.” Raven took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you. But Nero is already on the receiving end of accusations of favouritism as it is; anything I do will only paint a bigger target on your back.”

“By favouritism, you mean him packing the council with his former pupils?” Yassen asked flatly. Raven scowled.

“If that’s how you want to phrase it,” she said. “He’s not Number One. He truly believes that the League exists to curb the worst excesses of its members; his track record shows that. Max has never wanted power. That’s why he has to be the one in possession of it.”

Yassen took another sip of his drink, but said nothing. Raven’s refusal wasn’t entirely surprising; at the very least, it ensured a more positive reception to his next request. “In that case, then there is something else.”

“Hurry,” she said, unimpressed. “I can’t stay long.”

“You mentioned Alex Rider before,” Yassen hedged. “I have heard of Nero’s little school. It is the only place Rider will be out of MI6’s reach. If you cannot pull strings within the League, then you can repay my debt by having him enrolled. Is it still true that you run the retrieval operations?”

Raven blinked. “Yes,” she agreed, slowly, “but I don’t see how this is in your interest.”

“Special Operations is a cesspit,” Yassen commented idly. “You know that as well as I do. You also know a child of his age should not be their plaything. As you owe me a debt, so I owed John Rider. And it is about time I balanced my accounts, on both ends.”

There was a long pause as she considered the offer, expression unreadable.

“I can’t promise absolute results,” Raven warned him at last. “There are entrance tests to be taken. If he fails, he’s better off not coming at all. And he won’t be allowed any contact with the outside world, as with every other pupil.”

“There’s nobody left for him to contact,” Yassen said dismissively. “He won’t fail Nero’s examinations, I can assure you.”

“They don’t test for what you might think,” Raven said. “Seeing as he’s not legacy, Nero will want proof of potential commitment. A boy who took down SCORPIA is hardly villainous.”

“He was turned once,” Yassen said softly. “He can be turned again.”

Raven pursed her lips. “The man who trained me said that about me, once,” she said. “And I killed him where he stood fifteen years later. Don’t make the same mistake.” She rose from her seat, and shook Yassen’s hand. “But if you’re sure, I’ll be in touch with the results. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” he returned. “You know, with talents like yours, you’d make a fortune if you struck out on your own. Something to consider, hm?”

She laughed. “I don’t think so,” she said. He had not expected her to agree with him anyway; Raven’s only defect was her loyalty to her employer. “Enjoy your year of virtue.”

Virtue, Yassen thought, was pushing it. As he watched Raven walk away, he wondered if it had not been better for John Rider to let him die in the jungle after all.


End file.
